Crosswalk

In my car at an intersection and I hear clicking, clicking, clicking all around, like gathering animals preparing to pounce. In my periphery I see traffic lights wilting in the street. I’m dizzy. Drained. The lights drift towards a lone figure, waiting to cross, unaware.

They push him.

“You like that?” They say in that crosswalk voice. More clicking. “You like that?” They say, chirping. Pushing. He lands on my car. Then they see me. Electricity buzzes all around. The car fills with heat and pulsing lights.

The crosswalk was tired of getting pushed around. The crosswalk was pushing back.